Do Not Pas Go
by Sapphire1112
Summary: Set at the end of the current series. I do not own the characters. From Sam's POV.
1. Chapter 1

Increasingly bright lights pull me back to reality, persuading me to open my eyes.

The last thing I remember is pain and blood. I knew it was the end – I knew there was no going back. Help came too late.

The first thing I'm aware of, is that the pain has gone and there is no sign of blood when I open my eyes. I sit up, taking in my bizarre surroundings. This is not what I expected heaven to be like.

I seem to be sat in the middle of a pale green square. As I look above me, I see a large neon sign. The shapes on it make no sense. I rub my eyes and look again. The shapes have formed into words.

'Welcome, you oaf!'

I snort at the stark reminder of my ex-husband. Heaven or hell – of course he'd be here in some form.

Suddenly, I hear his gruff voice – as clear as it was in life.

"Get up, you oaf. What are you doing on the floor?"

I scramble to my feet in bewilderment. "Seriously?" I mutter, stunned. "Dylan?"

There's no answer and I wonder if I've imagined it, but it sounded so real – as if he was standing right next to me. If he is, he's invisible, and that's not possible. Not even he's that clever.

"Grumpy?" I ask, looking around. "Are you here?"

"Where else would I be?" He remarks gruffly.

Well, I didn't expect him to be in heaven – not like this anyway. Not talking to me in heaven. Actually, I didn't expect heaven to be like this at all.

"Are you dead too, Dylan?"

Again , there's no reply. I'm pretty sure that he was far enough away from the explosion to escape damage, but I need to make sure. I want him with me – but not if it means he's dead or hurt. If that's the price, he can't stay. I won't let him.

Another idea occurs to me.

"Are you in my head, Grumpy?"

"Of course I'm in your head." He responds – as though it's the most obvious thing in the world – and it is - now that he's said it. It could never have been anything else.

Before I can answer, a noise like a klaxon startles me. The neon message on the board 'Welcome, you oaf' disappears and is replaced by the number '6' flashing urgently. As I stare around me, the whole place lights up. I would appear to be in a corridor – pale green as far as the eye can see, but the black outlines clearly section the way into squares.

"What?" I exclaim, incredulously.

"Walk forward '6' spaces." The unmistakeable voice of Connie Beauchamp instructs.

"What?!" I repeat, even louder. I certainly didn't plan on meeting _her_ in heaven.

Never mind walking through a wardrobe into Narnia – or falling down a rabbit hole. These things just don't happen.

"Walk forward '6' spaces." Connie's voice rings out again.

"Dylan, this is completely ridiculous." I comment.

I'm met with silence. I think I'm getting the hang of this.

"Grumpy?" I try again, with a sigh.

"How can I help?" He remarks.

As I thought. It would appear that Dylan only answers to 'Grumpy' here.

"This is completely ridiculous, Grumpy." I repeat again.

"Would you please walk forward '6' spaces." Connie states impatiently.

"It is ridiculous." Dylan agrees. "But it's probably best if you do what she says."

At the advice of my beloved, I tentatively step on to the next square. There appears to be a gap in the wall between the squares. Strange. I cautiously side step and peer inquisitively through the gap – and behind the wall. The wall appears to be paper-thin and there's nothing but black behind it.

"No short-cuts." Connie retorts shrilly. I jump out of my skin.

"Sorry!" I withdraw my head hurriedly.

"It's only Connie." Dylan chuckles.

"Yes." I mutter. "But she shouldn't be here - I didn't ask her to be here."

"Well, you know Connie – she has to run everything." He answers.

I sigh and set about counting out the remainder of my steps – feeling incredibly stupid for doing so. As I reach the middle of the sixth square, a picture appears on the walls either side of me. I stare at them, dumbfounded. "You are kidding me – right?"

It's hard to know exactly what I expected – I've never really considered the matter before. What _did_ I expect?

Blue skies and sunshine, I suppose. Lush green grass and beautiful flowers – maybe a little stream and some calming music. That's not very _me_ though, is it.

I guess I though I'd be in charge – and I'd have what I always wanted. If Dylan was here, I'd be able to see him – to touch him. I'd be able to _see_ that he was ok.

What kind of heaven is this? It's certainly not the one I imagined.

"What would you like to do?" Connie states – rather than asking.

"I'd like to get out of here." I comment, hopefully.

There's no answer. Well, it was worth a try.

"-Or if I can't leave, can I at least meet the mad hatter?" I add sarcastically. If I am stuck here - and I can't have Dylan in person, the least she can do is give me the mad hatter to brighten things up.

"The mad hatter is unavailable." Connie informs me.

"Oh, is he having a tea party with Alice?" I remark factiously.

"The mad hatter is the property of Lewis Carroll's imagination – and is therefore unavailable due to copyright reasons." Dylan explains to me helpfully.

"Oh. Yes – I thought it would be something like that." I comment.

"What is it you wish to do?" Connie repeats.

"I've already told you." I complain. "Grumpy, what does she expect me to say?"

"I think she wants to know what you want to do with regards to the square you're on." He informs me.

I stare around me, at the walls. "I _hate_ this place – why oh why, couldn't I have fallen down the rabbit hole-"


	2. Chapter 2

"-Or I could have entered Narnia." I further lament.

"As I explained, Wonderland is the property of-" Dylan starts patiently.

"-Lewis Carroll." I agree.

"And Narnia is the property of C.S. Lewis-" He continues.

"Yes, yes. Copyright." I finish. "You said. Ok, but _Monopoly_?!" I retort indignantly. " Anyway, isn't this the property of Waddingtons – or whoever designed it?"

"It was designed for the purposes of families to play." Dylan answers.

"How long do I have to be here?" I whine.

"Well, that depends." He explains. "On how well you play."

"Right." I mutter. "So, basically this is a kind of limbo to decide whether I go to heaven or hell. Brilliant."

"If that's how you want to look at it."

"What's your purpose here?" I comment. "I mean – I'm awfully glad you are here and I wouldn't want anyone else, but _why_ are you here?"

"I'm here to provide company - and advise you where necessary."

"Like when you mentored me in college?" I remark, smiling to myself at the memory.

"Exactly."

"Please finish your move." Connie states.

"And Connie? I'm playing against her?" I ask, ignoring her voice.

"Sort of. You're playing against a computer. Connie's the computer." He explains.

I snigger – he's often likened Connie Beauchamp to a machine. "Well, I'm glad I've got you." I murmur.

"Well, you chose me." He answers.

"Huh?"

"You chose me." He repeats quietly. "I was obviously on your mind. I'm here because you wanted me here."

"That's good, but this? I _hate_ Monopoly." I point out with a groan. "I'm terrible at it."

He sighs. "That's why I'm here. Like I said, I can advise you – but the final decision on a move has to be yours." He pauses as Connie repeats her question. "You'd better say something – she's not the most patient woman."

I have to admit, if anything, I would have expected 'Chess'. That's Dylan's game.

I clear my throat. "What _can_ I do?" Rules are not my strong point. They never have been.

"Would you like to buy?" She replies.

"With _what_?!" I feel a sudden heaviness and glance down. A horrendously patterned orange bag is draped over my shoulder. "Oh...Grumpy? I'm on the angel thing." I comment. "Yes – or no?"

"I'd save your money for now." He comments.

"Um...no, thank you." I call out out. "I don't wish to buy."

The klaxon rings again and the neon sign above reads: Connie rolls an '8' She buys 'Euston Road'.

"Ok." I answer the air as the klaxon rings again. The number '4' flashes on the screen and I obediently move 4. Jail looks like a dreary place. Most of the square is taken up by a barred cage – and it's black dark in there. It makes me shudder – I still don't like the dark, but at least I'm just visiting, so the bit I'm on is lit up.

Connie lands on Bow Street – which she also buys.

"Well, she always has spent money like water!" Dylan remarks dryly.

I roll a double six, which takes me to 'free parking' and the die roll again – without the Klaxon this time. It's still my turn. 'Eight' flashes on the screen. I land on 'Water works.'

"This is a good property." Dylan informs me. "I'd buy this one."

I select £150 from my bag. "Um...how do I...?"

"Leave it on the square." Dylan instructs. "She will do the rest."

I obediently place the money at my feet and wait. Nothing happens to start with, then a trumpet sounds and the board reads 'The oaf has bought the water works.'

"Great." I mumble. Not only is Dylan going by my pet name for him here – apparently I'm to have the same courtesy. "Only Dylan's allowed to call me that." I complain, but my protests are met with silence.

The square flashes, and the walls are suddenly plastered with pictures of my face.

"Oh, come on!" I retort crossly. "It's bad enough that you stole my ex-husband's pet name for me, Connie – but now I have to stare at myself."

"I am not Connie." She answers bluntly. "I am Mrs Beauchamp."

"Oh.. _.sorry_." I exclaim. I'd move on, but I'm really not in the mood to stare at myself, so I repeat my comment, replacing the name 'Connie' with 'Mrs Beauchamp' – not that I expect anything to happen.

There's a long pause. "Who would you prefer to look at?" She asks eventually.

"Oh." I mutter in surprise. "Uh...Grumpy – I would like to look at Grumpy, please."

The square flashes again - and to my delight, I'm suddenly staring at pictures of Dylan.

"Oh, um, thank you, Con-Mrs Beauchamp." I say.

"Yes, well, moving on..." The klaxon sounds and Connie rolls an 'eight', landing on – and buying Trafalgar square.

"Grumpy?" I comment suddenly. "I thought there was a rule against buying on the first trip?"

It's one of the few rules I remember – and one of the rules that Dylan adamantly enforced on the rare occasions he talked me into playing the game.

He clears his throat distastefully. "Connie decreed that rule should be thrown out."

Well, that won't have impressed him.

I land on 'Park Lane' during my next turn and at Dylan's advice, I buy it too.

"You want the good properties, that will pay well if she lands on them." He explains.

"Yes, that sounds sensible." I agree. "But the more she buys – the more likely I am to land on one of hers."

"Yes well, I can't do anything about _her_ decisions, I'm afraid." He tells me. "I have no control over _that_ woman."

"I don't think anyone does!" I chuckle. Connie Beauchamp is a law unto herself. "You realise that I have no idea how much money I have left." I comment.

"It's ok – I've got your back." He remarks.

The klaxon goes and the board comes up with 'Connie rolls 'four'. Connie lands on the 'Water Works' and pays the oaf £16'.

"Yes!" I exclaim. "Get in there."

Dylan chuckles. "If only you'd been that excited when you played against me."

I get an eight and land on 'Kings Cross station'. Dylan again suggests I buy.

"I'm spending rather a lot, aren't I?" I comment nervously.

"You have just been given £200 for passing 'go' and the Stations are good ones to have." He explains. "But it's your choice."

I buy it because Dylan thinks it's a good idea – and who am I to argue?

"You normally do." He remarks dryly.

I didn't actually say that.

"I'm in your head, remember." He adds "I know what's on your mind. I only wish you'd taken this much care with my credit card when we were married!"


End file.
